


All these hands

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Enhances original, Characters - Family Dynamics, Characters - New interpretation, Characters - Strongly in character, Characters - Well-handled emotions, First Age, General, Plot - Bittersweet, Plot - I reread often, Plot - Tear-jerker, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Every word counts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2003-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:46:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The many hands that have touched Idril's life. A drabble series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Warm Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

My hands were numb and slick with water and ice, so I could not hold onto her. Silently, blindly, I searched for her, through the frigid crystals; we swam in a jewelled, aquamarine swamp. I thought she found me when the warmth came. Even in the coldest of places, she had a mother’s warmth.

I was pulled out; mother wasn’t. Hours later, I wondered why we never waited for the ice to move.

Long years will pass before I can find her hand again, but when alone, I feel her warmth wrap about me as I did before we parted.


	2. Big Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The many hands that have touched Idril's life. A drabble series.

The city shone white like crystal Tirion. This was my first time here and father led me to the Tower of the King. Belthil glimmered silver, and Glingal, golden, like mother’s hair; the trees, which he wrought himself.

“Here, at last we shall find happiness, Itarildë.”

I saw the love in his eyes for his new kingdom and the hope for our future. I gently squeezed his hand, which was still bigger than mine, despite my years.

In all times, I know father will always be there, to break my fall and wipe away my tears, to hold my hand.


	3. Surrogate Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The many hands that have touched Idril's life. A drabble series.

She grew paler by the second. This woman was lost for years, but she was now found. Would we lose her again? I prayed that we wouldn’t, not my beloved aunt, my surrogate mother.

With my hand, I pushed back the hair in her face. She’s an image of pure, pallid beauty.

It was like her life was a petal upon the edge of a fingertip, which could be easily blown away. I held onto her, in case she fell from the tips of those fingers. I moved too quickly and she fell. I let go of another motherly hand.  



	4. Lover's hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The many hands that have touched Idril's life. A drabble series.

He is a mortal, with faults and flaws. He speaks powerful words of wisdom, yet he stutters with words of love.

He is not perfect; his hands would be of greater use working the seas, than wresting a jewel from hell’s crown.

He does not dress as a prince of Men. His helm is no Dragon-helm; it is not renowned or feared. His he found at Nevrast, with his sword and shield.

His hand does not hold authority; his hands are not clean from hard work. His hands are lover’s hands; his hands wipe away tears.

His hand holds mine.  



	5. Son's hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The many hands that have touched Idril's life. A drabble series.

My son: golden hair, clear blue eyes, cherry lips, tiny fingers, chubby knees and a toothless grin. My son: with Tuor’s features and my colours. He has Tuor’s humour too.

He thinks I cannot see him crawling under the table. I sit, and before his little hand can latch onto my ankle with a hopeful scare, I sweep him off the ground, landing him on my knee.

He laughs, “Mama!”

My life will hereafter be separated into two halves, before Eärendil and after. I don’t remember what joys there were before him.

I do not need to; I have Eärendil.


	6. Stained Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The many hands that have touched Idril's life. A drabble series.

  
I noticed his hands when I first met him, travel-worn and grass-stained. In time I came to know that his hands were always stained with something or other.

I held his hand upon Aredhel’s deathbed. I watched curiously those hands work with anvil and hammer. Such graceful, artistic hands, devoted to crafting fine jewellery and weaponry; hands metal-stained.

Now, he looks at me with piercing eyes. His hands are reaching out towards me, begging for help. My husband pushes him and Maeglin falls.

His hands are stained with the blood of our people. And mine are stained with his insanity.  



	7. My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The many hands that have touched Idril's life. A drabble series.

Many hands have touched my life, left prints, before whisked away. But I will meet them again.

I will feel my mother’s warmth and see Aredhel’s vibrant smile again. I will hold father's hand and tell him everything I never had the chance to say. Eärendil knows I love him and Tuor I will always have beside me.

And Maeglin? Someday I hope we shall meet again. I have forgiven his wrong, and I will ask for his forgiveness for the pain I caused him. I will put my hand in his stained one, and mine will not be clean.


End file.
